


Complex Causality

by theseaanemone



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fake Cats, Gen, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Paranoia, Partners in Crime, bank heists (planning), can be read with shipping goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:49:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseaanemone/pseuds/theseaanemone
Summary: Jacob is the mastermind behind the greatest heist of the century, and he is about to make his comeback.





	Complex Causality

The plumber’s van pulled up at six twenty-three on Monday morning, half a block down from his apartment. Jake sat back from the window and checked his watch— at six thirty precisely he would raise the blinds. The time was chosen because it was unobtrusive: by then, fifty-three percent of the population would be awake. He reached down to the desk and began to gather the papers scattered across it. Blueprints, marked green for vaults and red for security were rolled tight and tucked under his arm. Beneath those lay stacks of thick folders: a camera’s instruction manual, a map detailing traffic flow, hand drawn and colour-coded schedules. He tucked it all away beneath the kitchen sink, hidden behind a barrier of hand soaps and paper towels. At six thirty-two, blinds raised to an empty desk, he pressed an ear against the door. Greeted with silence, he stepped outside. Down the back stairs and into the lobby— his neighbour had come for her mail early and he stood back, shifting from foot to foot until she had finished. Three bills and a newspaper. His skin prickled at the sight of his name printed on the envelops. _They know where you live._  
“When do I get to meet your cat?” the neighbour asked. Her name was Patricia. Once, she’d come into his apartment and wandered over to his desk. _Looks like someone’s got big plans,_ she’d said.  
“I don’t have one.”  
“Really? Your friend said you do. That Casey the two of you are always talking about.” 

They were on the third page of the newspaper. It was the same picture every time, the one Herman cut out when it was still a full half-page and insisted on framing. Jake kept it tucked in the back of the linen closet. Herman stood in front with his chest puffed out and his chin held high, and one could almost imagine his eyes were fixed directly on the camera behind that ridiculous mask. The Times called him the mastermind behind the greatest heist of the century. They called Jake his accomplice. The Sun described him as “ratty”. (They’d never seen his face and they called him ratty.) The Star didn’t mention him at all. He folded the paper in half and dropped it in the recycling bin. Plans and hand-written notes were arrayed around him on the tile floor, covered in his tightly scrawled printing. He turned the plans over and over in his hands. Picked up a pencil and then set it down. Mechanically, he packed the papers under the sink. The clock struck twelve thirty. Outside, the plumber’s van was gone. A man in a black sweater leaned against the building opposite, smoke curling from his lips, watching the apartment building. Their eyes met and Jake flinched back as though he’d been burned. His feet carried him back to the kitchen and he crouched before the open cabinet. Weeks of watching, or writing, of peering through blinds, of checking over his shoulders. The cabinet closed with a snap. There was a jacket in the back of his closet. It smelled of dust. When he unlocked the door, he did not listen for footsteps. 

A woman in a yellow jacket trailed him for three blocks, two meters back, keeping him in the edge of her vision. On thirty-second street, an old man shambled in front of him with grocery bags clutched in both hands and watched his reflection in the glass storefronts. Jake found a coffee shop and ordered the first thing on the menu. It was too bitter and too sweet all at once and he choked on the first sip, but he sat on the patio and drank it all. The air held the bite of fall and he shivered against it— hadn’t it just been spring? A phone rang. He almost ignored it.  
“I should make a speech,” Herman said, and then, “wait, are you outside?”  
“We can’t talk about this now.”  
“Everyone’s got high expectations after last time, so it will have to be good.” Across the street, the police pulled someone over for a traffic stop.  
“You told Patricia I have a cat,” Jake said. “I don’t have a cat.” Herman sighed. He probably pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“She isn’t going to make the leap from fake cat to code name for a bank heist.”  
“You can’t say that,” Jake whispered. He licked his lips, watching the police car from the corner of his eye, fingertips jittering against the table leg. “They’re listening.” Herman was silent. Finally, he said,  
“Can we please not do this again?” Jake didn’t answer. Instead, he hung up. 

A man in a blue baseball cap followed him home, holding his child’s hand. Patricia waved at him in the hall. Outside, the van was back. 

Herman came over in the evening. He wore a suit and a fond smile as he gazed down at the plans.  
“Look at all this,” he said. “Imagine what they’ll say.”  
“They’ll say you’re brilliant, right before they arrest you.” Herman looked up and for the first time, the smile faded into something uncertain.  
“Are you really sure?” Jake went to stand by the window and Herman followed.  
“Do you see that van? It followed me all day.” 

At eight thirty, he lowered the blinds. A creaky fan sat beside the sink, jagged scraps of paper piled beside it. Jake puled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. Bit by bit, he watched his masterpiece burn.

**Author's Note:**

> I found this while I was looking through old files on my computer. It was originally an assignment for English class where we were supposed to give the characters a surface motivation but also hint at a secondary motivation (Jake's primary motivation is that he's afraid they're going to be arrested and his secondary motivation is that he's resentful Herman got all the credit for his hard work). I didn't actually do that well on the motivation part of it, but the writing seems okay, so I figured I might as well toss it up here. Also I must not have been feeling very creative with the names, because Herman and Jake are both the names of my grandparents' former cats.


End file.
